The Sharpest Lives
by divergentandproudofit
Summary: Tessa Gray is sick and tired of living. She's bullied, ignored, or abused by nearly everyone in her life except for Jem, her only friend. But when Will Herondale moves in next door, her story is about to take a turn- for better or for worse. AU. Trigger warning: self harm, suicide. Based off the song The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance.


**The idea for this story just randomly came into my head today. This is majorly OOC and a lot darker than anything I've attempted before, but don't freak out. I'm not really sure where I want to go with this, or even if I want to take this any farther, but I thought I'd give it a shot. Enjoy! TRIGGER WARNING: self harm, eating disorders, mentions of suicide, language, possibly slight lemons in later chapters.**

* * *

_Give me a shot to remember_

_And you can take all the pain away from me_

_ A kiss and I will surrender_

_ The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead_

**-The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance**

* * *

**Tessa**

The first time I saw him was the day I cut again, after almost a month clean. As the blade bit my pale skin, I watched in fascination as the thin red lines appeared, marking the death of my self-control- wrists, thighs, hips covered in thin cuts. The thick red fluid pooled in the bottom of the bathtub. After almost a month of no cutting, the rusted razor that I'd shoved to the back of the closet had found its way into my hand all too easily.

I'd been so sure I was over all that.

But for the first time in almost a month, my 'friend' Jessie Lovelace had called me fat. "Was your mom an elephant?" she jeered, and her best friend Camille Belcorte laughed as if Jess had said the funniest thing she'd ever heard. I turned and ran. Thankfully, I made it through the day without going to cry in the bathroom, but the spiteful words had touched something broken deep down inside me.

After school, I'd gone home and weighed myself, and looked in the mirror. And as usual, Jess was right. I was fat. One hundred and thirty-eight pounds and six ounces, to be exact. Even after all the running, the skipped meals and the tears shed at night when nobody could hear me, I was still thirty-eight pounds and six ounces too heavy.

So, I found the razor.

Jem would be so disappointed in me once he found out. Jem, my only true friend, was the only one I had trusted with my secret. He was terrified for me, and constantly tried to get me to stop, but it was no use. I didn't mean to cause him so much grief, but I was in far too deep to pull myself out. The thought of the tears on my best friend's face and the pain in his voice almost made me stay my hand, but the rich color of the blood welling from the cuts was the only beautiful part of me, or so I thought. The pain was just distracting enough that if I focused only on that, maybe the worse parts of my life would disappear. And the thing was, they did, if only for a little while.

I could retreat and observe from a place outside my own body, watching a girl with brown hair slash and cry in the bathtub. I could, and did, pretend had no idea who she was. All I knew was that she was alone, completely and utterly lost in a house of wolves that wanted to tear her apart. I wanted to reach out to her, but I couldn't speak.

So she bled and she cried, sure that no one could hear her.

But the window was open, and eventually someone did.

.

**Will**

The first time I saw her was also my first day in Hope Valley, Massachusetts. I had just finished heaving the box with all my shit in it up the stairs. I had dropped it in the doorway of my new bedroom and groaned- they had to be fucking kidding me. The new room was painted a pukey shade of green, with a dusty hardwood floor and a questionable stain in the corner (dear God, was that _blood?)._ Maybe I'd be able to convince my Aunt Charlotte to let me paint over the walls. Black would be nice. Or maybe blue. Anything _but_ puke green would be good.

She probably wouldn't care. Nobody ever did. Not Aunt Charlotte, not Uncle Henry, a genius computer scientist who spent most of his time tinkering with machines. Certainly not my parents, wealthy musicians who had just dumped me with my aunt and uncle to go on yet another world tour.

I couldn't remember a time when my parents had spent time with me or told me 'I love you'. They were too caught up in fame and its pleasures to notice me. Even though I got straight A's in all my classes, even though I had been the starting quarterback on my old school's football team, they didn't give a fuck about me. Aunt Charlotte could call and say that I'd been murdered while visiting our home in California, and the first thing they'd ask would be, "are the rugs okay?"

With a muffled groan, I dragged the box into a corner, slammed the door shut, and went to open the window. Faint music drifted into the room from the house next door.

" _Give me a shot to remember_

_And you can take all the pain away from me_

_A kiss and I will surrender_

_The sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead_

_A light to burn all the empires_

_So bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be_

_In love with all of these vampires_

_So you can leave like the sane abandoned me_"

I rolled my eyes, sorely tempted to yell at my new neighbors to just shut the fuck up already, but just as I was about to slam the window shut, I saw her.

The girl next door seemed to be about my age, with pretty dark hair and pale skin. She stood in the light of her own open window, immersed in her own thoughts. Her eyes were a piercing gray, but it was obvious that she'd been crying- her nose was puffy and red and streaks of mascara ran down her cheeks. As she pulled the window shut, our eyes met for just a moment.

I could have sworn she had blood on her hands.

Then she was gone, vanished as suddenly as if I'd dreamed her. Maybe I had. I shrugged and turned away, leaving my window open. But all throughout the rest of that afternoon and most of the evening, I couldn't get the strange girl out of my head. Aunt Charlotte put my distraction down to stress and told me to get some sleep, but I ended up tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling.

Who was she, and why was she bleeding? Why was she all alone?

That night, when I finally closed my eyes, I saw her face. She was bathed in red, and her eyes were black as night.

**I don't have much experience with this kind of thing, so I'm sorry if that was absolute shit. But please, tell me what you think! Also, if you're in a situation like Tessa's, I'm always here to listen.**

**~divergentandproudofit~**


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